


Close Call

by Cloudy_Serendipity



Category: Alternate Universe - Fandom, Bucky Barnes - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), the winter soldier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Car Accidents, Cop!AU, Cop!Bucky Barnes - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Bucky Barnes, Reader-Insert, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, mentions of injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24378211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudy_Serendipity/pseuds/Cloudy_Serendipity
Summary: A/N:  An @the-ss-horniest-book-club Drunk Drabble prompt from @littledarlinhavefaithinme thank you again ladies of the HBC <3 this is probably more angsty that I originally thought but I started writing, got about ten words in and the angst-o-rama occurred XD  And I think I got a bit weird with the narrative... let me know if it’s kooky.Warnings:  themes that some may find disturbing related to loss, pain, terror, existential crisis on the horizon etc. Also.. sex, yay! 18+ only please!
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51
Collections: Cloudy's Horniest Book Club Drunk Drabbles & Challenges





	Close Call

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: An @the-ss-horniest-book-club Drunk Drabble prompt from @littledarlinhavefaithinme thank you again ladies of the HBC <3 this is probably more angsty that I originally thought but I started writing, got about ten words in and the angst-o-rama occurred XD And I think I got a bit weird with the narrative... let me know if it’s kooky.
> 
> Warnings: themes that some may find disturbing related to loss, pain, terror, existential crisis on the horizon etc. Also.. sex, yay! 18+ only please!

Detective Sergeant Barnes can count on one hand the number of times he’s been terrified in his life. Not just scared or riding the adrenaline-fuelled fear of fight or flight, but really truly terrified. In fact, he can count them on three fingers. The three fingers he currently has buried in the wet heat of your quivering womanhood, massaging your sweet spot until you’re climbing the walls in ecstasy.

But I digress.

The first time he felt it, it’s as rookie. A GSW to the shoulder left him in agony and bleeding to death in a gutter on a street he’ll never forget. The price of life - four days in a coma and almost cost him an arm. The same arm that’s pressing your hips down against the mattress while he devours you, licking and sucking until you cry out, almost agonised by the intensity he brings.

But I’m drifting again, aren’t I?

The second time he was terrified, it wasn’t for himself. Steve, his best friend in forever, took fatally ill. He’d always had gammy lungs and a crappy immune system but Bucky thought it was the end of the line for them. He sat by that little punk’s bed, watching while the drugs did nothing and the Doctors were baffled by how bad the kid got and how quickly. Bucky’s heart broke into a million pieces as he grieved the friend he thought he’d lose. The very same heart that is filled with so much love for you that it overflows into all aspects of his life with you. Even now, lay between your legs, drawing prayers to God and Jesus from you with his worship, he’s reminding you what it feels like to be alive. Reminding himself.

But that’s nothing. Not compared to this…

The third time Bucky felt the icy hooks of terror was today. Coming off the graveyard shift with his partner Sam, he’d been on surveillance all night when the call came through to his phone: hit and run. As a homicide detective, this wasn’t unusual, only the victim was still alive. _You_ were still alive, but the details were sparse.

All the bonds that held his heart together melted and froze at the same time. That tightness in his chest, the panic, the crawling terror under his scalp. Sam had drove to the hospital because Bucky was a mess. His body forgot how to make tears, almost forgot how to breathe for fucks sake. And there you were, sat on a gurney in your running clothes with your legs dangling over the sides, smiling at the nurse who was looking you over. _Smiling!_

He tore the curtain back and was at your side in seconds, breathless not just from running. That’s when the tears came, both yours and his, and as you slumped in his embrace you let your brave face slip and succumbed to what would be one hell of an adrenaline come down.

You could barely talk, tears flowing every time you tried to tell him what happened. So Bucky held you in between visits from the nurse, kissed you gently everywhere he could, and stroked your hair. He had to prove to himself that you were still with him, had to fill his senses with you because the alternative was to go find that fucking driver and rip them limb from limb.

When you were finally released, Bucky carried you to the car and from there he carried you to your bed. He took great care to be gentle as he disrobed you, laying kisses over every inch of your skin. He needed you to know how terrified he was without saying the words; he didn’t want to give them power over either of you, instead letting his desire to worship you and your continued existence flow through him.

It’s this desire that drives him now to chase every dark thought from every shadowy corner of your mind, to fill your whole being with the golden glow that is his love for you, to drown the ache of potential loss in the depths of pleasure. And as he takes those three fingers, on which he’d counted his true terror, and replaces them with his cock, your joint sighs carry you towards the release you both seek. Sweat-slicked skin and stuttering breaths adhering you together, not wanting to let more than a sliver of air between you.

Never wanting to be apart.


End file.
